Shen Zhiyi ignored Qingtang’s confusion and pushed open the palace doors.
A musty smell rushed at her face. Without changing expression, she stepped inside and surveyed the room by moonlight.
The main hall was small, its furnishings pitifully sparse. Dust blanketed the table, the curtains were yellowed—clearly, no one had lived here for years.
Perfect.
The more remote, the better. The more dilapidated, the safer.
She walked to the window and pushed it open, letting the night breeze flow in.
Moonlight spilled across the room, illuminating a single celadon vase on the table—the only object of any value.
She picked it up, examined it briefly, then set it down. Her gaze fell on a dust-covered book beside it.
She flipped it open casually. It was a copy of Records of Astronomical Observations from the Imperial Observatory, likely left behind by the previous occupant.
She was about to close it when her eyes suddenly froze.
In a blank space on the page, someone had written a line in tiny, neat characters:
“Mars guards the Heart; the Ziwei star stirs. The Emperor Star is dim; the Empress seat lies vacant.”
Shen Zhiyi’s pupils contracted slightly.
This handwriting… was at least ten years old.
She recalled the historical records she had crammed before transmigrating: the year the late emperor died coincided with Mars guarding the Heart. The crown prince was deposed, and the third prince, Xiao Jue, murdered his father and brother to seize the throne, earning a reputation as a tyrant ever since.
“Miss!” Qingtang rushed in, flustered.
“S-someone’s coming!”
Shen Zhiyi closed the book and slipped it into her sleeve.
As she turned, the palace doors were already pushed open.
A man in a black cloak stood at the entrance, a eunuch behind him holding a palace lantern.
Moonlight streamed in from behind, obscuring his face. Only his eyes were visible—
Deep. Cold. Like blades tempered in fire.
“The substitute bride?” he asked.
His voice was low, devoid of warmth.
The eunuch bowed. “Your Majesty, this is indeed the Second Miss of the Shen family from the Northern Defense Prince’s residence.”
Shen Zhiyi lowered her gaze and curtsied. “This concubine greets Your Majesty.”
She didn’t raise her head, but she could feel his gaze on her, as though appraising an object.
After a moment, footsteps sounded.
He walked in.
As he passed her, she caught a faint scent of alcohol—and something else, barely perceptible: blood.
His steps halted beside her.
“Raise your head.”
She obeyed and met his eyes.
Up close, they were even colder—devoid of emotion, like a stagnant pool.
Xiao Jue stared at her for a while, then suddenly smiled.
The smile was more terrifying than no smile at all.
“Shen Zhiyi.” He spoke her name as if reciting the number of a condemned prisoner. “Do you know why I asked you to look up?”
“This concubine does not know.”
“Because I wanted to see whether you resemble your sister who ran away.”
Shen Zhiyi’s heart skipped a beat.
He knows?
Xiao Jue paced slowly, his tone unhurried. “The legitimate daughter of the Shen family elopes with a lover, and the concubine-born daughter enters the palace in her place. The Shen family thought they could hide it—do they take me for a fool?”
Shen Zhiyi lowered her eyes and remained silent.
“What? No defense?” He stopped in front of her. “Or did you come here intending to die?”
The candlelight flickered, casting his face in shifting shadows.
Shen Zhiyi lifted her head, meeting his gaze, her voice calm.
“If I came to die, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Xiao Jue raised an eyebrow.
“If I wanted to die, I would have smashed my head against a pillar when my stepmother ordered me to take my sister’s place. I didn’t—so clearly, I want to live.”
“Want to live?” Xiao Jue sounded amused. “Entering my harem, life and death are left to fate. Haven’t you heard that?”
“I have.”
“And you still want to live?”
Shen Zhiyi looked at him steadily. “Your Majesty selected Consort Shu tonight, yet still took the time to come to Fangcao Hall—is it merely to frighten this concubine?”
The hall fell silent.
Even the eunuch holding the lantern at the door held his breath.
Xiao Jue stared at her. The coldness in his eyes faded slightly, replaced by something else—scrutiny… or perhaps interest.
After a moment, he laughed.
This time, it was genuine, though faint.
“Interesting.” He turned and walked toward the door. At the threshold, he paused without looking back.
“I can overlook the matter of the substitute bride. But remember one thing—”
He turned his head slightly, moonlight outlining his sharp profile.
“In my harem, those who pretend to be foolish usually die the fastest.”
The door slammed shut.
His footsteps faded into the distance.
Shen Zhiyi stood where she was, unmoving for a long time.
Qingtang had collapsed to the floor, trembling too much to speak.
Shen Zhiyi glanced at her own hands—her palms were slick with sweat.
Not from fear.
From excitement.
A slow smile curved her lips. She took out the Records of Astronomical Observations from her sleeve, flipped to the page, and reread the line under the moonlight.
“The Emperor Star is dim.”
“The Empress seat lies vacant.”
She thought of the look in that man’s eyes as he left. That was not the gaze of a tyrant—it was the gaze of someone observing prey in the shadows.
A tyrant?
Interesting.
She tucked the book back into her sleeve, walked to the window, and looked in the direction he had gone.
The night wind stirred her hair as she murmured softly:
“An average reign of three years? Looks like the data… needs recalculating.”